The Distant Metropolis

added blog Literature

2026-08-19 15:32:13 -

The iron tasted of rust and old blood, a metallic tang that coated the back of my throat as I pressed my lips to the cold, damp stone of the dungeon floor. I was twelve, or perhaps thirteen; time had ceased to have any meaning in the deep, lightless belly of the Keep of St. Jude, where the air hung heavy with the scent of rot and the distant, rhythmic thud of the portcullis being raised and...

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